


Titles

by mrhiddles



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Mythology - Fandom, Thor - All Media Types, really don't know where to sort this
Genre: Community: norsekink, M/M, Thorki - Freeform, hint at noncon, if that's a thing, more implied than anything else, mythological references and mythology within mythology, old fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:02:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrhiddles/pseuds/mrhiddles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The god stared at him, devoid of any amusement. “Your kind do not speak of good deaths. You follow orders and do as you must. You live up to your titles.”</p>
<p>Loki swallowed. “I never liked my title.”</p>
<p>Old Norsekink fill. Not detail heavy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Titles

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was to have Thor as Talos, though I generalized it a little and made references to multiple mythologies. But it's based in the world of Skyrim. Loki is a Thalmor. Not too detail heavy, just something I wanted to get out before I headed to bed at 5am again.

“You know what they are saying? Don’t you?”

“Come now, do not despair. We are here. We are dutiful. What you are being is not...”

“Oh stop, I—I just...”

The whisper came as a hush, though sharp. Loki felt the sound resonate. He focused on the words, trying to decipher just what the others were whispering about. Rarely did the others choose to gossip so openly, though with the rumors floating about...

No.

“He is come from the sky, they say!” The first one says, too excited now, too afraid. Loki has some idea of what they speak of. “The thunder, have you not seen it light the sky so brightly? For weeks now, it has been as day! His hammer—”

“You are a fool!” The first went quiet at the harsh reprimand. Loki heard the sound of a book snapping shut, the shifting of the air as a spell is called to the tips of fingers. “Need I remind you of the laws we’ve sworn to?”

“No.” A throat is cleared.

Loki felt his skin itch. He oft looked to the sky. The one who spoke so spoke true.

But it was not the time to speak, but to listen, and so he kept to bending his head to the pages of a well worn book, the tips of his ears tickled by his falling hair. His helm lay beside him, unscratched and golden.

The tingle of magic faded to a wisp and Loki could feel the subdued demeanor of the first who had outspoken. Cowering. Fearful. Loki felt his fear.

Then everyone shifted to the door as steps filled the stoned hall. Attention diverted there, Loki managed to catch a glimpse of the others. He knew them to be fools, both of them. But the first, a young, newly initiated Thalmor, spoke with enough truth for it to wedge a bit of curiosity in his heart.

Loki looked back to who had entered the room, who was loudly announcing to all in the old library something dire indeed.

“Ulfric has been located. We leave on the cusp of nightfall.”

Dread and something like excitement curled slick about his gut, and fire tingled through his every limb.

\--

“You seem distracted, elf.”

The prisoner, Ulfric’s bait, who had spoken was beat upon the head until blood trickled down in several threads across his face. Loki smiled at him, pleased he was not the one covered in gore.

The sky flashed bright and violent and it _poured_.

“I am simply enjoying nature.”

\--

They slept apart, in neat rows. The campfire had burnt out long ago, under protection for a short while by various wards. They had eaten their fill and covered themselves with makeshift tents to protect from the downpour while they slept.

Loki was awake, uncovered, save for his own carefully tended ward. The water bubbled about him, and he picked at the edge of one ear while studying the stars.

Some shared tents, two to one, but never more. One particularly beautiful elf, by the name of Balder, was quite drunk. He stumbled about, spouting fanciful words and displaying abhorring behavior for one of their kind. Loki ignored it as best he could.

Balder stumbled over to him, spilling his wine that splayed wide over the curve of his ward, staining the ground a dark red. Loki sneered.

“Unbecoming for one so beautiful. Leave.”

“Ha! You study the sky as if hoping to see a sign of a god.” Laughter burbled from his lips, and he sloshed in the mud unsteadily. He burped, and pointed to the sky with a jaunted finger. “Oh, great Talos! I dare you show us your fabled visage! Show us your justice!”

Knowing he would wake the others, Loki hissed, “I have half a mind to slay you where you stand, now sit before I spear you, you drunkard!”

Balder sloshed down in the mud, not caring in the least his pants and noble robes were ruined.

“Why do you look to the sky then, Loki? You do not believe the rubbish he has returned, right?”

“Of course I do not.”

“But still, you yet gaze. One must wonder, how far does that mind of yours wander?”

Flame licked at his fingers, enveloping his palm and extending towards Balder in a gesture one could not mistake.

“How far does your mind wander then, old friend?”

Balder grinned, eyes glassy.

“You are a funny elf, indeed, Loki. Eldest Son amongst the High Ones.”

Loki snorted, allowing the flame to be drenched in the rain.

“I’ve always hated that title.”

\--

“Ulfric will be leading an army against the stronghold of...”

Loki listened for a while, quickly losing interest in a war he had helped start, once so long ago. Now it was boring. It took little to slip away, leaving the others to their war plans and battle strategies. Today he would wander. Today he would venture and throw his gaze to the sky.

Today he would test his theories.

\--

They did not pray. They had no need. Thus there was no need for sacrifice, not the way the rest of the world they were slowly trudging through saw it.

This would be intimate. Painful. Different and wholly new.

For Loki would summon a forsaken god.

\--

The blood from his chest spilled hot and steamed in the morning air. The dew stained pink and red amongst the blades of grass at his feet and he felt the sway of magic coil through his body. He wanted to let it loose, be free.

But what he received instead was thunder and the thread of bright, aching light.

\--

The thunder had subsided, and now the neon of lightning crackled all about him, blinding the world with white and shuttering the rest of existence away, away. It was magnificent.

A man stood here, in the middle of onslaught. A monster, a god, a massive thing. Golden, furious, with a war hammer that Loki believed more than anything could crush the cores of worlds and grind the stars to dust.

“Talos,” he breathed.

Fury was there, and the god embodied it with the bulk of his tensing arms and the shift of his jaw. His eyes were of the brightest blue and they _shone_ as stars.

His eyes flashed. “Thor, Zeus, Indra, Ukko, Jupiter, Brontes, Perun...names you could not say. Names you could not hear. Names you have only ever seen in the vein that pulses in the leaves of every plant.” A frown. “I have many names, wicked creature.”

“A Nonbeliever.”

A loud guffaw echoed from the other. Loki nearly flinched.

Everything he knew was untrue. Everything he was fighting to eradicate from the world of these mortal men and native animals _existed_. And oh, was it beautiful.

Loki collapsed to his knees and the god called Talos, Thor, Perun, slung that hammer across his knee as he crouched in the mire before him.

“You have been busy, little elf.”

Loki let out a broken string of breathless laughter. He would need to kill Balder when he returned.

“What is your name, you who would wipe a land of their protector?”

Loki knuckled the dirt beneath his knees, terrified. He was absolutely terrified. And yet so terribly enthralled.

“Speak. You shake like a leaf in the wind.”

“Loki.”

The god studied him for a moment. He smirked darkly. The hammer glinted in the sheltered light of the forest and Loki felt bile rise to his throat but he swallowed it back down.

“I should show you the equivalent of the shame you’ve forced upon countless innocents. The shame of a worship shunned. Take you here upon this muck and leave you muddied and broken like your kind has left them.”

Loki grinned. The golden thunder lord did not.

“And you know this. Yet you summon me. A god you do not believe in. A hero changed. You are a wily one, then.”

“You show up, years upon countless years after supposedly watching your followers worship _raped_ from them, as it were.” Loki shifted closer, one knee at a time. His voice quaked within the barrier of his throat. “You would do this? To one who has watched the stars just as you have watched the ground which we all walk?”

He did grin at that.

“Clever. They should call you silver-tongue, if they do not already.”

The god brought his mighty hammer up faster than Loki could see, balanced level with the flat of it against his forehead. His brow shook and he knew he was going to die.

“Perhaps you shall bleed yet more this night, until your bumbling sacrifice is made complete.”

“Maybe I welcome it. If I were to be drenched in light it would be a good death.”

Slowly, so very slowly...the hammer was lowered.

The god stared at him, devoid of any amusement. “Your kind do not speak of good deaths. You follow orders and do as you must. You live up to your titles.”

Loki swallowed. “I never liked my title.”

Loki watched as the other rose to standing, a massive height for an impossible being. The hammer swung to rest on a shoulder, arm draped lazily overtop it.

“Clever, indeed.”

He pulled Loki to standing, clasped his shoulder, passing a large palm over the swell of his chest. Loki felt the beat of thunder pulse through him and when he removed his hand, in his wound there was left a thin, jagged scar. The god pats his chest once, and raises his great hammer to the sky.

“Keep watching the sky, my clever, silver-tongued, Loki. We may just end this feud, yet.”

Perhaps, thought Loki, feeling flame twist and turn within him, I will burn the core of a world you seek to cradle instead of crush.

But if he plotted and planned and seethed at the world the thunder lord had flown from, then let no one say he kept one eye turned to the sky, watching for a spark of gold.


End file.
